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Showing posts from August 12, 2012

Because things are the way they are, things will not stay the way they are.

Ain't no big thing. Jus' me and Ez.

maggie and milly and molly and may

Rock on. Spring Beach, Orford. July 2012. Someday. Yes, it might come. Some day. One day. Maybe. maggie and milly and molly and may , e e cummings maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as the world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

Barbarism is needed every four or five hundred years to bring the world back to life. Otherwise it would die of civilization.

Sharks patrol these waters.

An artist must be a reactionary. He has to stand out against the tenor of the age and not go flopping along.

No smoke on the water. The River Derwent, Sandy Bay. August 2012. Two books this week. First up, The Death of Grass by John Christopher. This is a neat little post-apocalyptic novel that centres around the human response to a virus that kills off all forms of grass. While the swiftness with which society reverts to savagery strikes me as perhaps a little off, there is great power in the descriptions of man's culpability for the disaster. Indeed, this one is a very prescient book. Recommended. Second up is The Dying Animal by Philip Roth. For a book that is ultimately about sex, it wears out its welcome reasonably quickly. A couple of imaginative paragraphs aside - Roth can write, after all - you can't help but think to yourself, 'get over it, you filthy old bugger!' Only for the keen.

If I knew what I was so anxious about, I wouldn't be so anxious.

There is a foot. A sky smile. An Ezra. A sleeping Henry (just left of shot). Such things you see on a long drive up the east coast and back.

At times I think and at times I am.

Faith. St George's Church of the Martyr, Battery Point. August 2012. Theme Thursday and I have been busy all day. 'What AROMAS did you smell?', well might you might ask. Discontent. Anger. Resignation. The usual...

As one grows older, one becomes wiser and more foolish.

Henry starts up an impromptu freestyle jazz riff with the sticks as Ez gets ready to scat his way through a bebop interpretation of Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov . We are thinking of taking the act to the next Arkhangelsk urban fringe festival, but just need some start up capital for air fares and bribes...

Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can't, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.

Decline and fall. Davey Street, Hobart CBD. August 2012. Wordless Wednesday.

The greatest happiness is to transform one's feelings into action.

Don't rock the boat Ezra. Get on with it!

All objects lose by too familiar a view.

Seeds. Princes Street, Sandy Bay. July 2012. Another Tuesday, another Q and A. Another stolen from Sunday Stealing. This week, The Useless Questions Meme . If you have any questions (useless or otherwise), I'm always up for answering them! Have you ever written a song? I’ve written poems that could be presented as songs, but no, I’ve not explicitly written a song. Have you ever been in the opposite sex's public toilet? Many years ago now. It’s not that exciting. Are you superstitious? Not in the least bit. What's the most daring thing you've done? Having children. By a long stretch. Did you have a baby blanket? Do you still sleep with it? I assume that I did. I do have a blanket that I used as a child. It’s on Ezra’s bed at the moment. Have you ever tried to cut your own hair? If yes, how’d it work out? No. That would not be a wise thing to attempt. Have you ever sleepwalked? Not to my knowledge. If you could be any age, what age would you be

All are born to observe order, but few are born to establish it.

Here is a portrait of young Henry hard at work washing windows. We'll label this Candid head shot, classic focal length 100 mm with fast lens/ shallow depth of field . Or I could just call it Our 'enry washing the car . Either way works for me.

A critic is a man who knows the way but can't drive the car.

Go-to-sleep-forever berries? East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. July 2012. As you know, the Internet is a wonderful place filled with the rich and varied treasures of the world holds (and photos of a grumpy Ezra.) The following are some things that I've had a look at in the last week. I call this: a Compendium of Click-throughs for Monday Morning... Robert Hughes, the death of a grumpy genius railed in vain against the rise of stupidity ... Life has been pathologised to the point that fear is an abnormal anxiety, persistent sadness a mental illness - and psychiatry faces a crisis of legitimacy ... Not on Facebook? What kind of sad sicko are you? Skip the opening paragraph of this on, the story itself is a cracker. How Poon Lim survived for 133 days at sea, after his ship was torpedoed in 1942 . Bludgeoned sharks to death with his water jug; drank seagull blood and generally had a rough time of things... Do you find 'charisites' annoying? You might like this t

He who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command.

One day those cliffs will fall. Until then...

There is no glory in battle worth the blood it costs.

Winter. St David's Park, Hobart. July 2012. I better rush out today's Top Five before the Limpicks run out of time (they are still going on, aren't they?). Anyway, in no particular order, My Top Five Official Olympic Logos That Are All A Damn Sight Better Than The Incestuous Monstrosity This Year!